Hello. I am not an ex~premie, well...kind of I am...but you can consider me as a Premie daughter, my name is Genny Glenn (for all you Kingston Trio fans) Reese. I came across this beautiful website years ago when it first came out, when most of you posted. I was just starting my journey to wellness, was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of hurt, and didn't join the conversation then. Wasn't sure if I even mattered, knew I needed way more information anyway as my memories were so fragmented...and I'm sorry I didn't share sooner. You all are so brave to be so honest and raw with your pain and healing and I want to thank you...all of you...for sharing...you gave me a better picture of how it must have been for my parents when they found the guru. A much better idea of how it was for my dad, Jim Reese, when he left me...for him, Guru Maharaji.

It dawned on me today, how selfish I've been. I'm the only one left to speak for my dad, you all have the right to know what happened to him, little as I know, and for too many reasons I've kept it to myself...all these years. I hope it's not too late...I hope someone still cares, still reads these journeys, still needs ammunition in going after that asshole for trying to forget the past...lord of the universe...that's who he was when I first saw him at a festival in Denver, CO c. 1972...who he always will be in my dad's final moments.

I finally found the courage to tell my story, and it can't be told without talking about the guru. I'm working on a book, the guru is a tiny part of it as he deserves, so in re researching my past I found you again, along with all kinds of new material he has put out. It's quite appalling actually, and I almost threw up when I read these words from "Your Moment: Spoken Words ..." that he released just last year, 2014:

"Is this [referring to inner peace] spiritual? No. There are people who like spirituality. I must make a confession. I am not one of them. If you are into spirituality, more power to you. I'm not going to talk you out of it. You are entitled to believe whatever you want to believe. I'm just saying, 'Know.'"

He doesn't like spirituality? More power to you? Ambassador of Peace?

By the way, I bought this book because it was the most recent, it was one of the few without a picture of him on the cover, and it was the cheapest. I didn't want a single cent of mine to go to him...I put intention into my order, that the money was actually meant to be self investment...research for my book, my past merging with my present...me, not him.

My blood was boiling the entire time I was reading this "book" and I just kept telling myself to just be calm...process objectively...save it for the book Gen, just save it...there's a place for your feelings in your book. But then, I read an Amazon review of Mike Finch's "Without The Guru...", that was very recent and touched my heart, so I posted a comment to the reviewer...encouraging them to continue spreading their enlightenment regarding this man who was in this persons town still at IT and still denying his guru past. My dad's suicide slipped in my comment...just a little, but enough to get someone's attention, and my entire comment was deleted. I've never been censored before and it was kind of shocking and incredibly painful, considering that it was the first time I ever went public with what happened. It was the wrong forum for sure and I got over it, still planning on moving forward with my own book, but it compelled me to re connect with you all here on this site...THANK YOU for still being here!

This is a small excerpt from my mind, it doesn't tell the whole story, but you'll get the gist, and my book will have much more outlined and detailed...someday soon. I'm also an open book to you...happy to answer any one who may have questions, and more than happy to hear from anyone who knew him...

Briefly, I know almost nothing about my dad's actual experience with the DLM and the guru, but I know how it ended. My mother and I left the guru when I was about four or five, my dad stayed with the guru and premies only...started a new life of total devotion where no one even knew about me. I only saw him one time, at his grandmothers funeral, until the DLM was dissolved and everyone was abandoned in the early '80's. He tried to "come back", he really did. We saw each other a few times for birthdays and lunches, but I was way too young to understand what was going on for him and never saw his suffering. He was dead within 14 months.

For those of you who think the cult was harmless, I beg to differ. There are other things in his life that are just as heartbreaking...child abuse, Vietnam, depression...but total devotion to any one other than the self does way more harm than painful memories.

Good luck moving forward...peace and love to you all, Genny

50 ways to leave your lover

"I'd like to help you in your struggle to be free..."
Paul Simon

Checked out early
Committed suicide
Killed himself
Took his own life

Self inflicted gunshot wound to the head
Massive brain trauma
Gun suicide
Ate the gun
Blew his brains out

Took the easy way out
Put a hole in his head and thousand of them in my heart
Made an offering to his guru...didn't quite work out

Bore too much pain
Couldn't stay
Left us too soon

Ok, so he wasn't my lover...the love of my life though, the pain too. And I didn't come up with 50 ways...could though. It's just the phrase that sings in my head whenever I start to count the ways...so many ways to say it...so many opportunities to abandon or abuse my power. Which emotion do I need to evoke from you? Do I need to protect you...or me? I've said them all, usually aware, sometimes not, but it's the very rare occasion that I don't very seriously consider my response when people want to know, "what about your father"?

It's totally situational. It depends completely on who I'm telling and why. It's never simple. So rare for any way I answer the question to not spark a conversation...which conversation am I up for with you? In a split second I have to decide...who are you to me?...why are we talking about it?...is it casual and innocent or deep and meaningful, this conversation we're about to have?...do I crave your sympathy or despise it?...do I show you my strength or my damage...or both?...how much time do we have?...are we talking about family?...death?...suicide?...childhood abuse?...Vietnam war?...guns?...psychic phenomena?...mental illness?...religion and cults?...nope...never simple for me.

I didn't tell anyone about my psychic vision of his death...for years... in fact I don't even remember the first time I told anyone about it, or even who I told...had to have been well into my 20s before I said anything to anyone. It was my dark little secret for a very long time...the funeral that made my lie come true. Many aspects of the suicide were, and through the years, the way I handled the telling of the story changed. Sometimes it was a 'wait until they ask' year...sometimes it was a 'you might as well know this about me right off the bat' year...

"Please don't feel bad when I tell you, you absolutely have the right to ask a seemingly benign question, but we lost him to suicide when I was young..."

"He blew his fucking brains out right before I got my first horrific period, so yeah, I retain the right to be a total fucking bitch...I'm a little bitter still..."

"It's an incredibly painful story to share, I reserve it for people who plan on sticking around...he's long dead, I'm infused with the pain and am as 'over it' as I'll ever be...the end."

There have times when I don't talk about it at all with the people in my life, and times when that's all I talk about. I've been compassionate and flippant, but hardly ever without concern for the how. When my co worker and friend, Ken the Virgo nurse, pointed out to me one day, "Gen, you really oughtta be more careful when you say that...it's kinda shocking...maybe you should warn us first...", I finally started to understand the power I wield, and the responsibility I have for other peoples heart ache for me. There was nothing but love behind his words, he wasn't scolding me, just reminding me how loved I am, and how affective the notion of suicide is...for everyone.

Most recently, I needed people to feel disgust, and used the phrase "blew his brains out" in a public forum. It doesn't feel good...I rarely say it that way, but it's true. I wanted to describe the scene with the blunt reality of it all...the rose, the guru, the gun...the disgust...it didn't go over so well. Even though I was careful to use my ugly words appropriately, and careful to soften my words with concession of other contributing factors, my entire account was deleted from the forum.

The premies really are everywhere...still...today, in 2015, ready to defend him and cover up any ugly truth as fast as they can...I couldn't believe it. I hadn't actually considered the possibility of backlash from them that seriously up until then. Now, on top of the sheer terror of being utterly exposed when my story comes out, I think I also have to realistically fear what they might do to keep me quiet and prevent him from ever knowing what happened in his name. It pisses me off that I have to bear that weight too...my load is heavy enough. Well, my comfort lies in the fact that my ugly story is nothing but fact. It's clear where my opinion shows up and I own every bit of it. They can't change history, try as they might, and nothing can remove the hate I have for him, try as I might.

I've often wondered...how would I feel, if I knew that someone had killed them self while looking at a picture of me? I guess it would depend on other varying factors, but I can't imagine feeling anything other than devastation. I wonder how the guru will feel, if anything, when he finds out that his face...as Lord of the Universe and Perfect Master and GREATER THAN GOD (no fucking way do you get to deny that part of your existence cause it's forever burned onto my scarred heart)...was the last thing my dad saw on this planet. I wonder if anything will stir in his heart when he learns about how my dad, beautifully gifted and damaged soul...one of his last die hard premies in Denver when he loved his people so much he abandoned them...how in 1981 he got into the lotus pose, put a long stem red rose in his lap, placed a picture of his guru Maharaji in front of him, meditated, put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. I wonder how he'll feel. It doesn't matter how I say it here, it's completely fucked up either way. My dad killed himself and the guru was there. And, by the way, I hate roses too.

This is how they say it...the teachers of devotion...from The Glory of Guru, in The Magnum Opus of Shri Hans Ji Mahara...an Indian DLM publication from the late 1960's:

"He who thinks Guru Maharaji Ji is a human being is blind. He will remain very unhappy in this world, and death will not relieve him of his sufferings.

Guru is greater than God, it's common sense. People who think about God stay in this world. But those who know Satguru pass beyond suffering, and attain perfect freedom.

If you want to know the secret of what I am saying, offer your head to Satguru. Many proud and arrogant people went down the drain on account of pride.

This body is like poison ivy, but Guru Maharaji Ji restores the soul. You should know that to exchange your head for Satguru is the best possible bargain, and very cheap at the price".

Cheap for who? It was very expensive if you ask me...I'm the one who got stuck with the bill. A thousand holes in the heart for one in the head...wish I could have helped you in your struggle to be free, there must be fifty ways to say he left me.